‘No.’
‘Do you have a headache? Shall I massage your head?’
Haji Saheb did not respond to any queries. He didn’t like to be fussed over. But right now, he did want Jasmin to massage his head a little bit. He couldn’t say that, though. Why couldn’t he?
Jasmin was his granddaughter-in-law. Wife of his elder son’s son, Sharif. A lot of wrong had been done to her initially. Haji Saheb too had been a part of the wrongdoing.
In Muslim society, on paper, there was no discrimination on the basis of race, or any division into high and low. But there was an unwritten differentiation. Jasmin’s father was a poor butcher. He had a beef shop in Haji Market itself. The girl used to assist her father in the butcher shop. She lent out money. Sitting in front of the cash box, she wrote down the loans and dues in a notebook. Everyone knew her. That lowly butcher’s daughter Jasmin had seduced a boy from the Haji household and got married at the registrar’s office. No one could accept such audacity. After much consideration and arbitration, she found a place in the house. But even if she got a place, she never got the status that a daughter-in-law deserved. Was becoming a daughter-in-law of a wealthy household an easy matter for a girl who had entered the house like a stealthy burglar? But now this girl was Haji Saheb’s main prop. Through her conduct, behaviour and caring service, Jasmin had steadily ensured a place for herself in the household. But that place was not that of a respected daughter-in-law; rather, it was as a ‘maidservant’ executing tasks.
Jasmin moved the curtains and opened the windows. The tender light of morning helped to clear some of the dark complications in Haji Saheb’s mind. When she climbed over the bed to lift up the mosquito net, he could see her from head to toe. As he lay in bed, he examined her. When the dark-skinned Jasmin spoke, her row of white teeth caught one’s attention. It suddenly occurred to Haji Saheb that she had been married for almost four years now. But why were there no children yet? He thought he ought to ask … But before he could, Jasmin interrupted his thoughts. ‘There’s a pill you have to take after eating. Shall I bring your breakfast now?’
‘Breakfast? Achchha, bring it.’
Jasmin swept, mopped and cleaned the whole room thoroughly, lit an incense stick, stuck it atop the cupboard, and left. Her deft touch made everything in the room look neat and tidy. This was her daily chore. Observing her doing her work with so much care, Haji Saheb was overwhelmed. He saw her every day, but he thought he was seeing something different today. After many years, he remembered his wife. Ah! Grant her a place in heaven, Allah! Sometimes something one saw every day took on a new appearance.
The fragrance of the incense. He experienced a feeling of pure tranquillity. He thought, this is the life! The greatest attainment was human companionship. To retain one’s dominance over a long life and then bid farewell. But the body was reluctant. And it was in order to keep that body healthy that this girl was toiling night and day. He could no longer disregard Jasmin.
Of course, he felt ashamed now to be fond of Jasmin. Sharif was his grandson, and so when, out of the blue, he married this girl secretly, Haji Saheb had to hang his head in shame in the mosque precincts. With so many girls to choose from, did he have to go and like a girl from a butcher shop? One whose body still bore the stench of raw meat! A lowly butcher’s daughter! He knew, when one was in love, even a wraith was alluring. But a butcher’s daughter? He had taken out all his rage on her father that day, he had threatened to stop his livelihood. Today, that girl was his caregiver. An elderly widower badly needed intimate care. But now he felt – no, she shouldn’t do so much.
He did not display any fondness for Jasmin overtly. Everyone in the family seldom spoke to her. She always replied to questions gravely. She was reminded of her humble origins every day. Was this arrogance? Was this the illusory self-esteem of the elite? As Haji Saheb dwelt in his own thoughts, he suddenly began weeping in silence. Those were tears of remorse and repentance. He thought he ought to ask Jasmin for forgiveness. Or else he might be held back at the test at his tomb. He wanted to love her. He needed to give the girl something as a token of his gratitude. He decided to transfer ownership of three shops in Haji Market to her. He would definitely do that.
A long time went by. Jasmin did not come with his breakfast. She sent it through someone else. Haji Saheb felt a slight sense of hurt today, but he couldn’t express it. He constantly felt the anguish of waiting for the person whose proximity he enjoyed. This was the anguish of a helpless man who lived in solitude. But no one sensed that. After having breakfast, Haji Saheb walked for a while in his room. Almost at once, an inner transformation took place in him. He did what he had never done before. He suddenly shouted out, ‘Natbou! O Jasmin natbou! Can you please come here?’
There was a fondness in the cry ‘natbou’ – grandson’s wife; a kind of filial affection. Jasmin was overwhelmed to hear that. It was as if after a four-year-long struggle she had finally received news of victory. From the kitchen across the courtyard, Jasmin joyfully replied, ‘I’m coming, Dadaji!’
Having come to pay Haji Saheb a courtesy call, Maruf found a twenty-two-year-old youth measuring his blood pressure. Had he qualified as a doctor? As soon as he quietly went and stood beside Jasim, the latter raised his head and looked at him. He removed the stethoscope from his ears and greeted Maruf. Extending his hand after returning the greeting, Maruf asked him, ‘How are your studies getting along, Jasim?’
‘Alhamdulillah! What’s your news, Maruf Da?’
‘Everything’s fine. I came to visit Haji Saheb.’
He then turned towards Haji Saheb and asked him, ‘How do you feel now?’
‘Can one be well at this age, son! I’m happy that you’ve come to look me up. I feel blissful inside to see educated boys like you, dear. Just see our Maqsood Lashkar’s son has become a doctor. He comes every day to check my blood pressure.’ And then the old man began crying. He said, ‘Pray for me, son, so that I can go to the mosque again.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m giving you the main responsibility in the mosque committee. Did Kalim Bhai tell you?’
Maruf smiled when he heard that. Actually, he didn’t know about the committee matter. No one had told him. So he replied succinctly to the query with just an ‘Oh!’
When Jasim finished, they were about to leave together. Jasmin arrived with the breakfast tray. Both Jasim and Maruf were observing the fast. Maruf asked Jasim, ‘How much longer before you qualify?’
‘Another year. Then I’ll be an MBBS.’
‘Have you started practising already?’
‘A little bit. Abba has made out a routine for me. I visit Haji Saheb from time to time.’
Maruf felt overwhelmed to meet Jasim. The boy had left for his Mama’s house way back in his childhood. He had then joined the
Al-Ameen Mission. He had been a brilliant student. Maruf had heard about his outstanding performance in the Secondary examination. The very same Jasim had attained a top rank in the Joint Entrance Examination, and was studying medicine now. He felt respect towards him. Maruf thought, Muslim society needs lots and lots of doctors, as well as teachers, lawyers and judges. As Maruf was thinking along these lines, Jasim asked him, ‘Maruf Da, how much has your work advanced? That dream of yours?’
‘A lot actually. I’ll tell you all about it. Finish your studies first, and then I’ll tell you. We need intellectuals in our community, Jasim. We’ll be present in every sphere. We need thinking people like you in the community. We need artists, journalists and writers.’
Jasim was listening to him. He was a bit grown up now. He was old enough to express his opinions. So he said, ‘That’s not possible, Maruf Da. Muslims will not be able to advance in all spheres.’
‘Why not? Why won’t they? Have you noticed that a consciousness is steadily being formed? Could this son of Terpol Haji have become a doctor otherwise?’ As soon as he addressed Jasim’s father by that name, Maruf stuck out his tongue in apology. ‘Sorry! Please don’t mind. Actually, everyone refers to him…’
Jasim too laughed. He said, ‘I know. My Abba and his funny ways! He himself keeps saying it all the time, so what’s your fault! That’s a verbal tic of his!’
‘All right. Forget it! So tell me, why isn’t it possible?’
‘Do you really want to know? It’s not my personal opinion. I heard it from a teacher in the Mission. You said we need intellectuals, we need a community of thinking folk, didn’t you? How will that come about? Isn’t talent throttled the moment it develops in our community?’
‘How? Please elaborate a bit.’
‘Let’s say a Muslim boy plays football well. Really well. The moment he gets a chance to play for a big team in Kolkata, there will be a fatwa declaring that it is haram to play with shorts that don’t reach the knees. Meaning, this is something condemnable. Or take a little girl who is very good at recitation. Or can sing songs in praise of the Prophet. Everyone compliments her when they hear her ghazals at the neighbourhood milad. But once she crosses the age of twelve, a fatwa is imposed on her: why should other men hear her voice? It’s haram.’
‘Anything more?’
‘Let’s say there’s a Muslim man who writes well. Fiction is essentially based on imagination. But imagination is actually false. There’ll be a fatwa in that case too, that there is no place for falsehood in Islam. There can be no great act with falsity. Or someone who draws well. He merrily draws fruits, flowers and leaves, nature, that’s fine, but the moment he draws an image of a creature, the verdict will be pronounced – drawing an image of a creature is haram. Can anyone give life to a drawn image? Achchha Maruf Bhai, aren’t fruits and flowers, plants and trees living beings? If someone studies law, it’s said that lies provide him his livelihood all his life. You want to follow a haram profession by becoming a lawyer? All these things, you know! How much more must I say?’
Maruf was silent for a while after listening to Jasim. Observing his excited mien, he asked, ‘So then?’
‘What else! Let’s go to the madrasa, study religion. All the problems will be solved. You’ll attain all the rewards in the world and in the afterlife, Inshallah!’
